The Wrath of Revenge
by Jemini
Summary: In Harry's fifth year, Snape is afflicted with an unexplainable illness and pain. Harry has had some very unusual experiences over the summer, which includes Snape being Harry's step-dad, and going to another life.
1. Default Chapter

The Wrath of Revenge 

**Chapter One: The Mysterious Affliction**  
  
Severus Snape did NOT feel well. He had not been feeling himself for some time now. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had been making potions for the whole entire week, non-stop. And maybe it was because of that; he felt ill each time he collected any ingredients for any potion. _Oh dear. He was becoming nauseous just from the smell of it now. What in the world was wrong with him? He was *the* Potions Master of Hogwarts so there wasn't a plausible reason about why he would suddenly not be able to stand even going near any potion he was brewing. _

He was finally able to finish the Wolfsbane Potion he had been making and deliver it to Remus Lupin. By now he felt groggy and dizzy. The ground spun in his office. As he caught a glance at the calendar on the way down to the floor on his faint, he realized it was two days away from the first day of school.   
  
He woke up feeling sore and bruised. He had fallen flat on his face when he had collapsed. He felt the sour bile rise up in his throat and ran to the bathroom just in time to throw up the contents of his dinner. He heaved and gagged and vomited until they subsided, leaving him with a felling that he had just thrown up all of his intestines. He washed his face in the sink and then looked in the mirror. His mirror was magical, like all of the rest at Hogwarts. But right before his enchanted mirror started moving and talking, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a Potions Master who was just a middle aged man, lacking the usual neutral, cold look that he usually had. Pale face, yellowish skin color and glossy, glazed over eyes of a sick patient looked back at him.   
  
He was frightened. Frightened, as he had not been for nearly 15 years.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
On the first day back at Hogwarts, there was one empty seat at the staff table. It was Severus Snape's seat.  
  
"Hey, what's up with Snape?" Ron asked Harry.  
  
"I dunno, maybe he's sick or something."   
  
"I hope so," replied Ron.   
  
"You know, he might be really ill. Maybe he's not getting enough rest," said Hermione, worriedly.   
  
Ron and Harry laughed into their breakfast.   
  
"Really, 'Moine, that's the first nice thing you've said about him in 5 years," Ron chuckled, " 'he's not getting enough rest', honestly, if he's sick he probably deserves it."   
  
Their attention was diverted by the hundreds of owls rushing into the Great Hall to deliver the mail. A Daily Prophet owl dropped the newspaper into Hermione's lap and swiftly left. Neville got a letter from his grandmother, complete with a long list of warnings and precautions against forgetfulness and Dark Magic.  
Hermione sighed.  
  
"Looks like Fudge still doesn't believe in the rise of Voldemort. See, "Ministry of Magic Dismisses Cases of Unknown Deaths as Accidental Deaths". And they expect the public to _believe_ that?!! How stupid can you be?" She spluttered with rage.   
  
"Hey Hermione, cool it. Fudge is a stupid, pure-blooded prat. Some people are already starting to believe Dumbledore rather than Fudge. And one day soon, just like Dumbledore said, everyone will remember Fudge as the Minister who stepped aside and gave Voldemort another chance. Stop worrying for now," said Harry.  
  
They all fell into a depressed silence. Harry was right, there was no point in worrying now. They had all been worrying about Voldemort attacking Harry over the summer and it hadn't occurred yet. It was no use worrying, it would happen one day sooner or later and on that day, Harry would confront Voldemort for the sixth and hopefully the last time. Now, they had started worrying about innocent bystanders getting killed because the wizarding community was pitifully ignorant about what they were up against. Of course, what Harry had just said stopped all of the Gryffindor's from voicing their worst fears and going crazy from anxiousness. But that didn't stop them from thinking about it.   
  
Something made them all look up.  
  
"Hey, you guys," Ron said excitedly, poking people in the ribs, "McGonagall is passing out the term's schedules!"  
  
Sure enough, the stern faced Head of House was passing out schedules to seventh years. In a few minutes, she was standing by the fifth years.  
  
"Well," she said, "it certainly helps passing out the timetables when all of the students in one year sit together." Her mouth was set in a thin, grim line.   
  
They knew why first years were sitting next to each other and second years and so on. Everyone at Hogwarts had taken to sitting next to the people in their year. They had reckoned that it was safer in numbers than alone. But it seemed that the reckoning had only gone so far as to include all of the Houses except Slytherin. If you looked over to where the green robed, silver sashed Slytherin were sitting, they were all sitting in a humble jumble of mixed years.  
  
"Ooh, I've got Arithmancy first!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
Ron and Harry groaned.  
  
"We've got Trelawney," they said in unison.  
  
"I wonder who's teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts. Moody's gone right?" said Harry.  
  
"Good point," Ron chipped in.  
  
They had noted the fact that there was only one empty seat, which was Snape's, during the Sorting, while there was no other seat empty for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They pondered for a while.  
  
"I bet Snape didn't get the job again," Ron said  
  
"When _do_ we have Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Damn, it's the last period we have on Thursday." answered Harry.   
  
"That's such a long time," sighed Hermione  
  
"Anyway, guess what we have after Divination,"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Double Potions."  
  
"Bull. It just had to be right before lunch. Now I'll always be in a bad mood while I'm eating," said Ron.  
  
The now depressed three split up and headed towards their classes. Hermione ran off excitedly to Arithmancy while the other two dragged their feet to the hot stuffy room upstairs.  
  
"You know what Ron?" said Harry.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm beginning to wish that I quit this class when I still had the chance to, like Hermione did."  
  
"C'mon Harry, you've been saying that for practically all of the summer holidays. Get over it. You'll pass the O.W.L.'s for Divination. Just make up a bunch of rubbish. You know she'll gobble it up like a sponge," said Ron.   
  
"Listen to your own advice Ron. Who was the boy that was complaining his head off last year, huh?"  
  
"Ok. So I was being a prat last year. This year, you're the one being a prat."  
  
They pretended to punch each other and with that last comment, they had reached the small trapdoor leading to their class.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Snape felt horrible. He realized that he had missed the Sorting Ceremony. He remembered vaguely that he had thrown himself onto his bed after looking at himself in the mirror. His mind whirled with thoughts. Thoughts of the past, present and what was happening to him. He thought, _I need to get a Pensive one-day. I feel like I am going insane_. As he replayed those last few thoughts, he remembered that he had class soon. If today was the first day of classes he would have Potions with the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. He quickly threw on his characteristic black robes and ran a hand over his face, trying to make his expression the neutral blandness of the Potions Master.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Their Divination class had been uneventful as usual, while Hermione's class had been "fascinating". The threesome walked slowly together towards their Potions class. When they reached the gloomy and damp dungeons, they saw that most of the Slytherins were already in their seats. As usual, they headed towards the back row where they usually sat.   
  
Snape walked into the classroom and everyone fell silent. He looked pale and haggard as he began his lecture for the newest potion they were making.   
  
Harry whispered, "You were right, Hermione, I guess he really was sick."   
  
"Probably caught a bug or something," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.   
  
"Then why doesn't he go see Madame Pomfrey or something?" said Ron.  
  
"You three, in the back. Well, well, if it isn't the famous Harry Potter and his sidekicks. Everyone will split up into groups in order to make this potion. Potter, you go with Malfoy. Miss. Granger, you will go with Miss. Patil. Weasley, go with Longbottom. And ten points from Gryffindor for whispering!"  
  
Snape's voice was coated with malice but his steely black eyes lacked the usual glint that they had whenever he picked on the three.   
  
Harry wondered why Snape's eyes were not acting like normal.   
  
Snape suddenly doubled over in the middle of explaining how to make the Quodpot Solution. He was hit with an intense pain coming from his abdominal area. It was like the searing pain that he had experienced when he had gotten his Dark Mark branded onto his left fore arm, except even worse than that.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up from their conversation to see Snape stagger, clutching his stomach and grab onto the nearest desk to support himself.   
  
Everything went all hazy and the dungeon spun around him, but when he grabbed onto the desk, his mind cleared. Snape knew that he was not in the greatest condition to teach, so he stood up and announced, "Class dismissed. I seem to have a headache. Your homework is to write an essay explaining the uses for the Quodpot Solution." He struggled to say his instructions as evenly as possible. It took all of his effort not to gasp in between each word he spoke. The fact that he had a headache was a total lie and he knew it. The class, murmured and gathered their belongings, and filed out. Snape strode quickly to his office door, to hide his increasing weakness and went inside.  
  
They had walked all the way to the Great Hall's entrance, when Harry suddenly stopped.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Ron.   
  
"Ah...I think I left my quill in there," he said, pointing to where the Potions classroom was located, "you guys go ahead to lunch. I'll be there in a second."  
  
As Harry headed back towards the dungeons, he thought about all of the fun times he had had having Snape as a step-dad in his other life. _Something must be seriously wrong, if he dismisses his class without a real explanation _thought Harry.   
  
He reached Snape's office door without realizing it. He knocked. There was no answer. He listened carefully for any sound of life inside his Professor's office. He heard a very slight moan. He knocked again. Receiving no answer, he tried the door. Finding it unlocked; he went inside.   
  
There, on the couch, was a very unusual sight. Snape was lying on the couch and for all he was worth; he seemed like a dead man. Both of his arms were crossed over his stomach, clutching it almost deliriously. He was curled up into a slight ball. His face was contorted with pain. He had gritted his teeth and it seemed that the pain was making him unconscious.  
  
"Professor?" said Harry. Snape did not seem to hear or recognize his voice.  
  
Harry went over and touched his hand. It was very clammy. Not to say cold also. _He's not dead, is he?,_ asked a subconscious part of Harry's brain.   
  
"Professor?" yelled Harry again. Panic washed over him like a wave. He went over and practically bellowed into Snape's ear.   
  
As if the bellow had awoken him from a deep trance, Snape opened his eyes slowly. As Harry's face swam into focus, he croaked, "ŠPotterŠwhat'sŠwithŠm-'' His face crumpled into an expression of agony once again. The pain was like a red-hot sensation that started in his stomach and spread throughout his entire body, making him almost delirious.   
  
Seeing that the Potions master had fallen into unconsciousness and the statue-like position again, Harry did not go running to Dumbledore like a first-year. Thinking that comfort would ease his pain, he summoned a pillow and cast a warming charm onto some blankets. There was always a draft in the dungeons, so he carefully covered Snape in the warmed blankets. He then left the room, and closed the door quietly.   
  
On his way back to the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione came running towards him.   
  
"What happened?" asked Hermione breathlessly.  
  
"Yeah, what happened Harry? You missed lunch," said Ron.  
  
"We're also about to be late for our next class, Herbology," Hermione reminded.  
  
"Erm...I couldn't find my quill so I went to get another one," spluttered Harry feebly. He wasn't ready to tell them about his other life yet.   
  
Over the summer, before he went to stay at Ron's, he had had a fascinating yet near-to-death experience. He had touched a Port key near Privet Drive, placed there by a Death Eater, and it had transported him into a world ruled by Voldemort. This was a life where his mother had not died, where Harry Potter had been sacrificed to live as His servant. Severus Snape was his step-dad and he had two brothers. Everyone in that life had lived in fear of an attack. Harry had grown up living in a family and having a happy life. Until he realizes that on his 15th birthday, that he is to act as a double agent like his step-dad, acting loyal to Voldemort and reporting back to Dumbledore and the Aurora Department. After living his new life as it is for almost a whole year, he recognized the fact that Voldemort was planning a major Death Eater attack that would bring about a major blow to the entire wearing community. He understands that this life is one not meant to be, and figures out a way to go back to his real life. He succeeds in pulling it off and lands back in his real life a week later (for some unusual reason, 10 months in his other life was equivalent to a week in his real life). After that, he had gone to stay at Ron's house until the term started.  
  
"What do you reckons wrong with Snape?" inquired Ron, to the others.  
  
"I don't know. Hazard a guess, Hermione?" lied Harry.  
  
"Gosh. You two can be so stupid sometimes. Probably, sick isn't he? He'll probably go to the Hospital Wing sooner or later anyway," said Hermione.  
  
"In any case, since when did we start to worry about Snape's health?" said Ron  
  
"You're the one who started this conversation Ron," replied Harry, "Obviously, Hermione isn't worrying and neither am I. Like she said, he'll go and get it fixed at the Hospital Wing. He'll be back in no time." Harry tried to end the conversation.  
  
"Yeah. Oh, look, here comes Neville."  
  
"Aren't we late to Herbology?" asked Neville, once he caught up with them.  
  
"Drat. We are! C'mon, lets go!" Harry said.  
  
With a reproachful glare, they slid into their seats after murmuring a hurried apology to Professor Sprout. They sat down on the greenhouse floor, joining their classmates who were furiously taking notes on how to re-plant a___.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Snape woke up after a very relentless sleep. He remembered dismissing his fifth year Potions class, and for some odd reason, he remembered seeing Potter's face. _Odd,_ he thought. He wondered who had put the warmed blankets and pillow on him while he had been unconscious. It couldn't have been Potter. He probably had just imagined his face.

The pain had lessened considerably, which was why he had been able to ponder about some things. The dyspepsia, or so he thought, must have come from something he had eaten. The only thing he _had_ eaten was his dinner from two days ago. He had thrown it up anyway. 

Could it have been something he drank at the Death Eater Party with Voldemort last week? They had all gathered around and had had to drink to the health and uprising of Lord Voldemort. He was still acting as a double agent for Dumbledore. He had sniffed his drink very throughly before drinking, though and he had detected no poison in it. And whoever heard of a potion that took effect a week after being taken? In all the books he had on potions on his bookshelves, none contained a potion like that. 

The pain came back, and this time it was like needles and pins being stuck all over his body. No, this was definetley no indegestion. Before he fell back into his painful unconsciousness, he remembered something that Dumbledore had said to him when he had been foolish and young,

_"Evil feeds off of peoples' fears, Severus, fears and pain."_


	2. Chapter Two: Plans

Chapter Two: Plans

"Evil feeds off peoples' fears, Severus, their fears and their pain."

As Snape's mind was falling back into blackness with this quotation in mind, Harry was making a very hard decision. He decided once and for all that he would go to Dumbledore and tell him about his experiences over the summer. Really, he thought he had already gone mad with memories from his other life butting in, just when he didn't want them interfering. And so, before he lost the determination, he threw off the covers of his four poster bed and tossed on his robes. With a quick glance at the clock, he strode out of the Gryffindor common room. The time was 2:35 AM.

Of course, he had on his invisibility cloak. It wouldn't do any good for him to get caught by Filch two days into the term. He knew that being out of bed was not a wise choice, especially when Voldemort was gaining power. But, this was more important to him now. He reached the gargoyle that was guarding Dumbledore's office, and after a few tries with the password, he was able to gain entry with the words, "Lite Sugar Quills".

As Harry stepped up to escalating stairs, he wondered why Dumbledore would need to watch his calorie rate now, when he was well into his old age. He wouldn't have much use with the fat free quills anyway. When he entered Dumbledore's office, all was dark and quiet. No one was there. Come on, he doesn't sleep in his office now, does he, asked a little voice in Harry's head.

"Professor Dumbledore?!" yelled Harry. "Professor Dumbledore!"

***

Albus Dumbledore had been sleeping peacefully in his chamber behind the bookshelf in his office.

Suddenly, the most awful din exploded in his eardrums calling his name.

"Professor Dumbledore?!"

That sounds like Harry, thought Albus. But he wouldn't come looking for me at this time of night would he? Albus Dumbledore sat up in his bed groggily.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"It's me, Harry. Harry Potter," came the answer.

"Now, what in the world can he want at this infernal time of day?" Dumbledore asked himself.

"Where are you, Professor?"

"Wait one second Harry."

Dumbledore did not bother with putting on a formal robe. He went up to the wall of his bedroom and pulled out a stone from the wall. The wall slid open to reveal his office and he walked in.

"Professor Dumbledore…" gasped Harry in astonishment.

It was the first time Harry had ever seen Dumbledore in his pajamas. Dumbledore was wearing striped pajamas. They were white and blue, the kind of blue that matched his twinkling eyes. He was also wearing a nightcap with a golden tassel at the top. The nightcap itself was a royal purple with stars and moons embroidered with gold. Dumbledore didn't look in the least embarrassed about being seen in his pajamas.

For a few moments Harry gaped with huge eyes.

Dumbledore broke the silence by asking, "So, Harry, what brings you here at this time of night, disturbing my peaceful slumber?"

Harry started to apologize before he realized that Dumbledore was just teasing him.

Harry began to tell him the story of what happened to him. It felt so good to finally be able to tell someone and bring it out into the open.

"Well, you see sir, one day in August, I was walking through the backyard garden when I saw a diamond ring that looked just like the one Aunt Petunia had lost, lying on the grass. I went over to pick it up and it turned out to be a Portkey…"

***

A few hours later, at 6:51 AM to be exact, Harry ended his story. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes were no longer shining with merriment. Instead, his face was grave with concern and his features showed his old age for once.

"I don't know what to tell you Harry," said Dumbledore. "Life must have been very hard for you these past months."

"What do you think Professor? Should I be packed off to St.Mungos?"

"To be frank with you, there's no piece of evidence to show us that this actually happened, except for the fact that you went missing for a week in our world and no body noticed it except for the Dursleys."

"And who would believe that kind of evidence?" said Harry bitterly.

Dumbledore held up a hand to show that he was not done speaking.

"--But," he continued, "I believe you. I also think that you should find a way to organize your thoughts, so that the other experiences you might have wont interfere with your daily activities. So, with all things in consideration I suggest you get a Pensieve."

"Where can I get one?" asked Harry eagerly.

"Pensieves cannot be bought. They are made with a certain kind of potion. Very few wizards know how to make them. We are lucky to be blessed with a certain Potions Master who knows how to make a Pensieve. Severus Snape."

Harry looked down at his feet. He knew that Snape was in no condition to be able to make a Pensieve solution for him. He wondered whether or not he should tell Dumbledore about Snape's mysterious pain.

"What's the matter Harry? Do you still hold a grudge against Professor Snape making a potion for you? Even after you've experienced 15 years of having him as a step-dad in your other life?"

Harry was still thinking about what to say and did not answer immediately.

"Would you like me to ask Professor Snape for you?" asked Dumbledore.

"NO —I mean, I'm capable of asking him. Don't worry. I'll ask him to help me make a Pensieve, right?" said Harry.

Dumbledore smiled warmly, "I'm glad you've gotten over your mutual hatred of Professor Snape, Harry. Oh, by the way, you'll be needing a stone bowl or something, to put the Pensieve solute in."

"Ok Professor."

"Is there anything else of importance that you'd like to tell me, Harry?"

"No. Thank you for your advice."

"Bye now."

"Bye Professor."

Harry walked out of the Headmaster's office. Why hadn't he told Dumbledore, Harry wondered. He knew why though. He knew that he hadn't told the Headmaster because there was a chance that Snape's pain was caused by some mysterious disease, like indigestion occurring at the same time as a muscle spasm. And then, there would have been no point in alerting Dumbledore over something as minor as that. Dumbledore already had too many things to worry over, no use adding to them.

***

The next day, Snape was at the Great Hall, eating breakfast with all the other teachers. Harry was glad Snape was looking a bit better. He wanted to show Snape some memories from his other life after he made the Pensieve. He thought that Snape hadn't had much joy in his life after James Potter had gone off and married his mum. Maybe that's why he joined the Dark Side. Harry shuddered. No, his parents can't have been the source of darkness for Snape.

Snape was indeed looking better. He wasn't looking his usual self yet. He still looked a tad bit pale. The Gryffindors were groaning because Snape was back again, alive and well. On the other hand, the Slytherins were happy. Their Head of house was back again. They could start gaining the lead in house points by being the teachers pet in Potions.

It seemed as though life was getting back to normal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius Malfoy threw some purple powder into the fireplace in his Manor. He then stepped into it and said, "My Lord. I have served you faithfully and I will always serve you. You are the utmost power. I give and devote my life to you. Lord Voldemort."

He was whisked away to the Lord Voldemort's lair.

"My lord, is the Plan going well?" asked Lucius.

"Ha ha. It is already taking place and I must say that that was a very ingenious plan you thought of the other day," replied the dark voice.

"Thank you sire."

"Everything is going smoothly. Did you bring what I had asked for?"

"Yes. It was in one of our very oldest chambers," said Lucius proudly.

He handed a small figurine of a man over to Voldemort. Voldemort ran one bone white finger over the chest of doll. It parted at the seams to reveal the insides of the human body, replicated. The body itself was perfect. The skin was made of a waxy material and man's insides included all the organ systems in a human body. If he ran a finger across the arm, it would have parted to reveal muscles and blood vessels. The man had no hair, yet it already had cold black eyes.

"Will it serve the purpose?"

"Yes. Yes. This will do very nicely."

With a quick snap of his fingers, a dark hooded servant brought him another figurine. There had been pins and needles sticking into it, all over its body before, but they had been removed.

"Look here, Lucius," said Voldemort

Lucius Malfoy crept over to his master's side to look at the other figurine he was holding.

It was a perfect mirror image of Severus Snape.

"…I did not know you could get results so quickly master."

"Fool. I have many more servants, just as loyal as you are. I have the power."

The figurine that was in the exact image of Severus Snape, had cold eyes, a dark black robe on, and even had a Dark Mark on his left fore arm. It had hairy legs, yet he had no chest hair or arm hair, and neither did the real Severus.

"How did you get a hold of his hair?" asked Lucius.

"Everyone sheds hair," he said matter-of-factly, "even you have dropped at least five strands in the time you've been here now. Last week, when I had that "party", I asked some other followers to gather any hair that that traitor," he spat, "lost. The accumulated hair of his, are now the hair, leg hair, and eyebrows on that figurine."

"If you already had this, how come you needed the figurine I just brought you?" said Lucius sulkily.

Voldemort laughed.

"You can be so bland sometimes, Lucius. You cannot give another human being only physical pain. You see, without your figurine," he said holding up the one that Lucius had brought, "we can only succeed in breaking his arms, or sticking pins and needles all over his body. This figurine," he held up the one with the robes that looked exactly like Severus Snape, "does not have a mouth that leads to the stomach, etc. We cannot feed him poison, or make him retch. There are many more internal tortures than that of physical pain."

"We will gain revenge on him once and for all, Master."

"Of course. That little bastard, goes running to Hogwarts, the instant I have fallen. And does he think that I do not see through his double agent role that he has taken again. He swears that he is once more my loyal servant, and he has seen the fault of his ways. Then why doesn't he quit his underpaying job at Hogwarts? That Severus has lost all of the power and courage he once had. He is only a weakling now." he hissed.

"Master, do not anger yourself. The Plan is already in action. That traitor will get what's coming at him. We will get vengeance."

"I am tired now," said Voldemort.

Lucius gasped. "You must not tire yourself needlessly master. You are still weak."

"Go now. Come back tomorrow morning. We will discuss how to get more hair from Snape for the internal figurine."

Lucius Disapparated back to Malfoy Manor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape was back to his normal icy self a few days later. When Harry thought that Snape was back to usual; he approached him about making a Pensieve.

Harry knocked on the door. There was no answer. He was filled with a sense of déjà vu. He knocked again.

"What is it!" said an extremely annoyed voice.

"It's me, Harry Potter," said Harry

"Argh! Potter!" came the answer.

"May I come in?" asked Harry timidly

"Yes…" he said gruffly.

Harry slowly walked into Snape's office. Compared to the other time he had been in his office, Snape was conscious and sitting at his desk, grading papers.

"What is it, Potter?"

"Um...sir, I just wanted to ask you something," said Harry.

"Well?!"

"Um."

"WHAT!" Snape interrupted.

It seemed as if Snape was in a very crabby mood indeed.

"Can you help me make a Pensieve?" whispered Harry.

"Speak up!" Snape was getting livid now. He whirled around to face Harry.

"Can you help me make a Pensieve?"

"What in the world do you need it for?"

"To organize my thoughts."

"Well, of course it's to organize your thoughts! That's what a Pensieve is for." Snape said sarcastically.

"Well. Do you have a bowl?" asked Snape.

"Yes." replied Harry.

"Are you willing to pay me back for the ingredients?"

"YES."

"One more question, is this Pensieve for you or a friend?"

Harry thought quickly. If he said it was for himself, Snape would probably ask him more questions once he had made it. If he said it was for a friend, he could make up a fictional character that needed organization of their confused thoughts.

"It's for a friend."

"Oh. Well, I can't help you make it right now. Come back tonight. After dinner."

Snape guided Harry towards the door.

"Also. Bring your cauldron, wand and the bowl you're going to put it in."

"Cauldron?"

"Yes, stupid boy, your cauldron. Did you think I was going to make it for you?"

With that, Snape slammed the door in Harry's face.

Harry knocked at his door again.

"WHAT? I dismissed you already!"

"Erm, I left my book bag in you office sir."

"HERE!"

The door was opened and Harry's book bag was thrown. The force of it knocked Harry over. The door slammed again. Harry got up and slung his book bag over his shoulder.

God. He must be in a really bad mood today, thought Harry. He walked through the halls and corridors towards the common room.

He gave the password, "Quidditch Cup."

He walked past Ron and Hermione arguing over wizard chess and went up to his dormitory. He put down his bag and opened his trunk. After searching for such thing as a "bowl" for two hours and finding nothing, he decided to ask Dobby down in the kitchens.

He tickled the pear and walked into the kitchens.

"Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked a familiar voice.

"Would you like any food sir?" questioned Dobby.

"No thanks Dobby. I'm actually looking for a bowl."

"An eating bowl sir?"

"No, no. A bowl to put a potion in."

"Dobby does not know what you are looking for."

Dobby grabbed Harry's hand and led him to a great big shelf. He opened the doors and there were bowls, bowls and more bowls.

Harry asked, "Where did all these bowls come from Dobby?"

Harry wasn't just talking about the bowls that they saw at dinner. He was talking about the hundreds and hundreds of different assortments of bowls. There were the usual dinner bowls for soups, and there were also fancy glass bowls, marble bowls, metal bowls, transparent bowls, plastic bowls, Ziploc' bowls, ice cream bowls, ceramic bowls, gold bowls, silver bowls, clay bowls, stainless steel bowls and many, many more.

"Harry Potter sir, can choose one he likes sir," said Dobby.

Harry reached for one bowl that had caught his eye. It was made of black marble and it had gold designs carved into it. On closer inspection, the gold designs were really inscriptions in some sort of code. On the rim, there was a sort of quotation like sentence. On the outside, there was a repetitive pattern of the same words, he guessed.

"Can I have this?" asked Harry.

"Yes, yes," replied Dobby ecstatically.

"Wait," said Harry. He fumbled in his pocket. He found 2 galleons and handed them to Dobby.

"I'm going to be keeping this so I need to pay for it."

"No," said Dobby in distress, "Harry Potter sir can have the bowl for free."

Dobby tried to give back the money to Harry.

"No, Dobby. If I didn't pay, it'd be like stealing something. If you don't want it, give it to Dumbledore, and say it was from me because I took a bowl."

Harry quickly strode out of the kitchens calling, "Thanks Dobby!"

"You're very welcome sir!"

While walking back, he looked at the inscriptions. He wondered what they meant. I'd better ask Hermione. She's bound to know more about it, he thought. He would just tell her that he found the bowl in the kitchens and wondered what they meant. He couldn't wait to learn what they meant. He was sure that they meant something important.

He was so intrigued by the bowl that he did not realize he was going the wrong way, if he wanted to get back to the Gryffindor common room. He was halfway there, to the Slytherin common room. Harry cursed himself. In his old life, he had been in Slytherin, but he hadn't been the greatest of friends with Draco Malfoy. Actually, he had steered clear of Malfoy and his gang of friends. He usually hung out with his few friends or talked to his stepfather in his office. But, that was in his old life. If he didn't get his thoughts organized soon, he would probably start doing things that the Harry in this life would NEVER be caught doing. Like going to the Slytherin common room instead of the Gryffindor one, thought Harry peevishly.

Harry turned on his heel and started walking in the right direction. This time he focused his attention solely on walking in the right direction. When he finally reached the Gryffindor common room, the only people there were Ron and Hermione. They were still squabbling about the rules of wizard chess. Harry sighed. Once they got into a heated argument, there was no way to stop them.

"RON! HERMIONE!"

They both stopped arguing for a moment to turn their heads to look at him.

"I have something important to ask you guys"

Hermione looked at him for a second. Her glance noticed the bowl at once.

Hermione came over towards Harry and started to examine the bowl almost immediately.

"Where did you get it?" she asked.

Ron now came over.

"Wow. That is one pretty bowl. What's it say Harry?"

"I dunno, that's why I came to you guys to ask."

"Have any ideas Hermione?"

"No," she replied, "at first the writing does look like a design, but once you stare at it for a while, you realize that it's some sort of writing."

"So, we should go to the library, right about now, eh?" interrupted Ron with a grin.

"Yes. That's what I was going to say."

"We know you too well, Hermione. Of course you're going to suggest the library," said Harry.

"Yeah. The library, where we can find the answers to everything," mimicked Ron.

"Hey! But it is true. You can find the answer to almost anything in Hogwart's library," said Hermione.

They headed off to the library. Hermione was still examining the bowl as they walked.

"Hmm. I bet I've seen this inscription before. I remember seeing it in a book I once read," muttered Hermione.

"Hermione, you've read hundreds of books. It must have come up in ONE of the books you read. But that doesn't really help us. It's one out of a million that you must have read."

They entered the library. They were immediately hushed by Madame Pince the instant they entered the large library. All three of them looked at the ceiling. There, was the directory to all the sections that the library was divided into. Harry noticed the section called Languages & Codes. Ron noticed the section called The Mysterious Inscriptions of the World. So, they decided to split up. Hermione headed for the large dictionary of languages that was near the Languages and Codes section.

Harry found some books that looked like they had some articles of interest about some inscriptions that looked similar to the one on the bowl. Hermione actually took the bowl with her when she went to look for some books.

She first found out that the language on the bowl was written in a language called Wingdingasa, which originated in a far off land that existed 2000 years ago. This land was washed out in an epidemic and then later on in a major flood. Legend has it that it was an island and did not have contact with the outside world until the brink of their extinction.

"Look, there's an alphabet that corresponds with the English language!" she exclaimed.

They crowded around Hermione and decoded the inscription on the rim of the bowl first.

D_r_e_a_m_s_ _a_r_e_ _t_h_e_ _k_e_y_ _t_o_ _y_o_u_r_ _l_i_f_e_ _o_r_g_a_n_i_z_e_ _a_l_l_ _o_f_ _y_o_u_r_ _t_h_o_u_g_h_t_s_ _a_n_d_ _y_o_u_r_ _l_i_f_e_ _w_i_l_l _ _b_e_ _s_u_c_c_e_s_s_f_u_l_ _l_i_v_e_ _y_o_u_r_ _l_i_f_e_ _t_o_ _t_h_e_ _f_u_l_l_e_s_t_

"This looks like a saying for someone who uses a Pensieve," commented Hermione.

The pattern of words that encircled the whole bowl meant: Y_o_u_r_ _t_h_o_u_g_h_t_s_ _a_r_e_ _r_e_a_l_i_t_y_

"Wow, this bowl sure does not make sense," said Ron.

"It seems like it was a bowl that was used for a Pensieve," said Harry, echoing Hermione.

"What does "your thoughts are reality" mean?" asked Ron.

"I guess it means your thoughts are reality when you're inside someone's memories?"

"No. I think it means that your thoughts are reality because your memories, become like a real life experience once it's inside the Pensieve," said Hermione.

They all sighed. Once they had decoded the saying, it wasn't such a big deal. Especially when it said two things that didn't make sense.

"What were you going to do with the bowl, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"I…Um…I, I was going to use it for a Pensieve," finished Harry. There, he had told his friends.

"Wow. I mean, this bowl is perfect to be a Pensieve," said Hermione.

"Your Pensieve, Harry?" queried Ron

"Yeah. It's for me. To look at the memories of my past."

"Oh."

"You know, I figured maybe if I looked at the things I remember from the night my parents were killed, and added that, to what I hear when the dementors come near me, well, I figured that maybe I could infer why he wanted to kill me and my parents in the first place," Harry knew that that was a very stupid reason to make a Pensieve, "and maybe I can find a weakness of Voldemort when I figure it out."

The real reason he wanted to make a Pensieve was to look at his other life again and show some of his memories with Snape. It was weird, but he still missed having a step-dad around.

"Harry, you know You-Know-Who chose who to kill randomly and then destroyed the whole family," said Hermione quietly.

"That's what the Ministry thinks. But Dumbledore, at the end of my first year, I asked him, and he said that he couldn't tell me why right now. If Voldemort chose whom to kill randomly, and my family was just another victim, why didn't he tell me? I'm guessing that he knows another reason why he tried to kill me."

Harry looked at his watch.

"I've got to go get ready to make the Pensieve. I'll make it right after dinner so..."

"What? You've got to make a Pensieve?"

"Yes you have to make a Pensieve. You can't just go buy it from a store, Ron," said Hermione.

"Who's helping you Harry?" she asked.

"Snape," said Harry. He tried to groan. But he was actually happy because it was a chance for him to witness Snape alive and well. And, well, to see Snape as his crabby self again.

"AAH! Harry, are you sure you want to make this thing with Snape?" said Ron.

"He's the only one that knows how," shrugged Harry.

"Well then, that's inevitable, isn't it?" commented Hermione.

Ron's stomach grumbled.

"It's time for dinner!" exclaimed Ron.

"We all know that because of your stomach Ron,"

"At least it's on time," said Harry.

"You know what, you guys go on ahead to the Great Hall. I'll catch up with you guys once I put this bowl into my trunk. Save me a seat!" he called as he ran out the door.

***

After dinner, the three trudged up the stairs with full stomachs. Harry clapped a hand to his scar.

"Ow!"

"What's wrong Harry?"

"Oh, nothing. My scar hurt a bit. Maybe Voldemort killed someone."

"Harry, that's NOT funny."

"Whatever it was, it's gone now," said Harry.

"Hey, really great pun, Harry, maybe he DID kill someone. Let's check the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning!" laughed Ron.

Hermione just glared at the two of them.

At least we can still joke about it, thought Ron, Thank God; Harry has a sense of humor still.

Harry got his cauldron and wand, and other necessaries.

As he passed his two friends, they said, "Good Luck."

Harry chuckled to himself. An hour with Snape would be torture. He would get yelled at so much. But that was ok, if he was able to make a successful Pensieve.

***

Harry knocked on the door to Snape's office.

Snape sighed. He disliked Harry because he reminded him so much of James. And James, well, he hated James for taking away the love of his life. He also knew that Harry was making this Pensieve for himself and NOT for a friend. He wondered why Harry wouldn't say so straight out. Of course, Potter thought that he would ask many questions. Well, he wouldn't. OK, so maybe he WOULD ask some questions, it would be against his nature not to.

Harry knocked again.

"Come in."

Snape had set up all the ingredients beforehand.

"Put your cauldron there," he pointed to the spot right of where the ingredients stood.

"Now, chop up the dried snake fangs so that they are crushed almost to a point where they are powder."

There was a large handful of them.

Snape sat in a chair and began to grade some seventh year homework.

Thirty minutes later, Harry said, "I'm done, Professor."

"Thought you'd never get done with it," said Snape

Snape didn't look up from grading his papers.

"Now, put the snake fangs in the cauldron, but don't light the fire yet. Got that?! Do you see that blue liquid in that pitcher Potter? Measure around five cups of that into the cauldron. And for your information, that blue liquid is very valuable and it takes me three months to make it. I always have some on hand so it wasn't an inconvenience."

Harry did what he was told.

"Done? Then light the fire and stir with that ladle over there. Make sure all of the snake fangs have dissolved."

"Now, what Professor?" he asked.

"Add those powdered leaves in those packets over there. They're labeled. Add them slowly in this order: Knotgrass, Fluxweed, and then the rosewood leaves."

Snape turned around to watch Harry this time, making sure he got it right. Before Harry could ask, Snape said,

"The potion should have considerably thickened by now and turned a blue-ish green. Bring it to a boil. Do that while I go and get the next ingredient."

Snape left the room. Harry pondered about what the next ingredient could be. Snape came back into the room with a crystal vial.

"This is a Truth Potion, or Veritaserum. But this is no ordinary truth potion. It has unicorn horns in it, along with it's liquefied horn."

He strode over towards Harry's cauldron and uncorked the bottle.

"Pour about a quarter cup of Veritaserum," he said.

With a steady hand he poured it into the potion. Snape did not measure out the exact amount of serum. He only poured and then stopped when he thought that he had poured around a quarter cup. He had an excellent sense of measurement, so Harry didn't need to worry.

"That was to make sure the memories and experiences inside your head actually occurred and are true. Next, take a handful of hair. That unicorn hair! No! Not all of it. Just a fistful."

Snape walked over to demonstrate.

He took a handful of unicorn hair and dipped the tips into the scalding hot potion. He stirred with his other hand while the unicorn hairs were still in the potion. He lifted the unicorn hairs out and most of what had been dipped into the potion had dissolved.

"Make sure that the hairs have completely dissolved and DO NOT throw whole hairs into the potion and stir!"

Snape handed the remaining unicorn hairs in his hand to Harry.

"Do the rest," he said simply.

Snape pulled up an armchair near the fireplace. He sat down in the emerald green, velvet, luxuriously cushioned seat. He crossed his legs and started to read a new book he had gotten called, "The Secret & Ancient Magic of The Wizarding World by Burnaby Occultism"

Dissolving the unicorn hairs was hard and tedious work for Harry. He quickly became hot because he had to lean over the cauldron a lot. Three hours later, he was finally finished with all the unicorn hairs.

"I'm finished with the unicorn hairs, Professor," said Harry.

Snape had been dozing off in his armchair, and he had been startled awake.

"Ah," he woke up, "Oh. Yes, pour the concoction into the bowl."

"Done? Good, now all the user has to do is tap their wand at the edge of the bowl and say, Veritas sententias and their full name."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," said Harry.

"I'll give you the receipt for the ingredients tomorrow. Also, are you sure that that Pensieve isn't for you?"

Harry was torn between two decisions. He wanted to tell Snape the truth, yet, he wanted to hide it because Snape might become very angry. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, it's for me."

"Aha! I thought so. What use do you have of a Pensieve, Potter? To gain more fame?"

"I have a lot more uses for it than you can ever think of!" said Harry angrily.

Harry stomped off, and banged the door closed behind him. He walked up the stairs carefully so as not to spill it. When he reached his dorm, he made a relatively flat surface in his trunk and put the Pensieve down. He locked his trunk, changed into his pajamas, and got into bed. Everyone else was asleep. It was close to midnight. It seemed like Ron had been waiting up for him. He had fallen asleep in the chair. Harry smiled. It was good to have friends that cared.

Harry shook Ron awake and said, "Ron, I'm back, it's ok. Get into your bed and go to sleep."

"What? Harry. Oh," Ron yawned, muttering sleepily, got into his bed and fell fast asleep instantly.

Harry did the same. Just as he was about to fall asleep, his scar burned. I'll tell Dumbledore about my scar twinging twice tomorrow, he thought as he fell into a blissful deep sleep.

***

Back in his office, Snape had been getting ready for bed also. He wondered if he had been too easy going towards Harry. Snape actually liked the boy, except that he reminded him too much of his unpleasant youth and his forever enemy, James Potter. As he was taking off his robes, his Dark Mark seared at the same time as Harry's scar burning.

"Aaah."

He clutched his left fore arm convulsively. His arm burned with pain. He quickly scribbled a note for Dumbledore if he didn't get back in time for classes tomorrow and sent it off with an ever-ready owl. He reached into the jar on the mantel and threw some purple powder into the fire.

He said, "My Lord. I have served you faithfully and I will always serve you. You are the utmost power. I give and devote my life to you. Lord Voldemort."

He disappeared into the flames with a whoosh. He pondered what Voldemort wanted now as he was transported through the dark tunnels.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

A/N: That's the end of the chapter folks! Hope you liked it. Don't worry, Snape is acting as a double agent, he doesn't join the Dark Side. But aren't you glad he has found his sense of humor at last?


	3. Chapter Three: More Plans and A Foggy Me...

Chapter Three: More Plans and a Foggy Memory 

Snape landed with a slight thud in the fireplace of a dark abandoned shed. He brushed some soot off his robes and walked over to the dark figure in the corner. Voldemort was sitting in a large armchair facing away from the fire. Snape walked up to him and knelt down on one knee. His forehead brushed the ground. He bowed. 

"Come, come. Rise," said Voldemort.

Snape got up. When he did, there were two Voldemorts. He looked around. There was one sitting in the chair by the fireplace and there was another one standing at the far corner of the room. There was a muttered curse. Snape staggered and his eyes glazed over. He fell sideways onto the floor. 

The dark robed figure at the other side of the room unhooded his cloak. It was Lucius Malfoy. He was the first to speak. 

"My Lord, what spell did you use?" he asked.

Voldemort laughed. "It is my own creation. A mixture of the Stunning Spell, the Cruciatus Curse and a Memory Charm. He won't come to until I say the counter-curse." He smiled. The smile seemed to say that a Voldemort-created-spell was much more amusing than an Unforgivable curse.

Wormtail stepped forward with a pair of scissors. 

"Too bad we didn't have much time to think of a better plan to get some hair from him," muttered Malfoy. 

"I gave you plenty of time," said Voldemort, his eyes burning with anger, "_you_ could not think fast enough."

Wormtail began to cut some of Snape's hair off. _Snip. Snip. Snip._

"Is this enough, master?" asked Wormtail. He held up a very large handful of shoulder-length hair. 

"Yes. That will do very nicely." Voldemort sighed. "I hate to let him go," he confessed.

"We can always keep him here and torture him with curses," suggested Malfoy.

"No. The idea is tempting but a simple _Crucio does not begin to compare with what he has done to us. We need to torture him, yet be the last that he suspects. He will be taken by surprise. He won't have any clue of what's hit him," finished Voldemort gleefully. _

"Although…I _could_ Summon him, tie him up in ropes, paralyze his body, and then cut his eyes out…and then use one of those burning out curses and char his vision nerves forever…" he trailed off.

Voldemort shook his head to clear his increasingly nasty torture tactics that were distracting him the task at hand.

"Wormtail! Come here and give me the hairs. They are of no use to you," he called.

His servant walked obediently towards him. When the hairs were in his bone white hands, Voldemort swiftly tucked them into his deep pockets.

"I think we can wake him now…" and without further ado, Voldemort said the counter curse in a clear voice.

"_Reballatio Procudo Memoria._"

***

After he was through with the whole bowing and kissing hand ordeal, Snape got up. He was never allowed to rise unless the Master asked you to. That was just one of the rules about being a Death Eater. He was very disgusted by the whole thing but he didn't let any of it show on his face. When he got up, he looked around for a moment, and there were _two Voldemorts. _No, that can't be right_, he thought and blinked. That was when Voldemort muttered a curse softly, aimed at him. _

He stumbled, and then felt helpless as his eyes rolled up into his head and painfully lost cognizance. 

***

He came to on the cold cement floor of the small storage room they used as a meeting place. The world around him blurred. He then became aware that Lucius Malfoy was kneeling over him. Malfoy Senior was smiling in that sick, sweet way of his.

"We were _so _worried, Severus. You probably tripped on the leg of that chair," said he, pointing to the leg of a chair lying a few feet away. 

"You didn't come to for a few minutes," he added placidly.

Snape got the point that he had only been gone to La-La-Land for a couple of minutes. _Yes, he probably _had_ tripped on that chair_, he thought. He didn't remember anything except for landing in Voldemort's headquarters. Snape tried sitting up. It felt as if every joint in his body was creaking. He tried not to, but couldn't help groaning out loud. Lucius held out a slick hand to help him up. _He thinks I'm groaning over a small bump on the head,_ but now that he thought about it, he did bang his head when he fell, didn't he?

Severus Snape was not one to complain about minor pains or injuries. Yet, the creaking pain he experienced whenever he moved was agonizing. It felt like he was having arthritis in every joint of his body. He suspected nothing.

"It feels like I've banged up every joint in my body," he confided to Lucius.

Lucius smiled a fake smile of sympathy and said, "It should go away after you've walked it off, I'm sure."

Snape looked up at his master. It seemed as though he were smiling. He blinked. Although when he looked more closely, Voldemort seemed incapable of showing any emotion. He was not laughing; he was more in the way of frowning. 

"I have a private task for you Severus," said Voldemort.

"Private?" asked Snape.

"Yes, private. Your own sort of "secret" mission, shall I say? To show where your loyalties lie."

"Whatever you say, Master," he said in a slave-like way. He disgusted himself. The way Death Eaters had to go about talking to Voldemort. _Like he's some sort of hero or something,_ thought Snape.

"There's a Mudblood family in Edinburgh. The mother is a half blood Squib, and the father is a Muggle. Their daughter looks like she's getting magical powers. I want you to go eliminate them. Filthy things. They're last name is Bates.  I'll give you a week to come up with a cunning plan and follow through with it."

"Thank you, My Lord," he said.

"Now its time for some fun and games, Severus," Voldemort purred.

_Oh, not this again, _thought Snape,_ although he does it every time he Summons me._

"_Crucio!_"

There was some unique quality about every spell or curse that Voldemort inflicted. In this case, the victim of the Cruciatus Curse was sent flying upward until he hit the ceiling. He probably screamed as his bones snapped and his intestines twisted, probably cried out for mercy as though his lamentations had at one time brought relief, may have even died from the pain that surged from Voldemort to him, through his arm, up and over, down and under, permeating and breaking and gleefully painful.

"Why haven't you broken the magical barriers at Hogwarts yet?!" he screeched.

Voldemort kept at it. 

"Why haven't you poisoned that fool of a Headmaster?"

Voldemort was getting hysterical.

"WHY! WHY! WHY!" his shrieks and cries resonated in the small shed. 

Voldemort finally lifted his wand after 30 minutes of pure torture. He didn't want Severus Snape to go mad, yet. 

Snape was dropped mercilessly from the ceiling with a thud. 

"It's not over yet my friend," cooed Voldemort.

He unsheathed a sharp butcher's knife.

"Lets see, where shall we start?" he asked himself.

Voldemort started by making two long vertical cuts on Snape's legs. The sound of ripping flesh echoed in his ears. And he swore he heard the sound of the sharp blade scratching his bone. After that, Snape was in such pain that he couldn't think about anything else.

It was not wise to show weakness in front of the Dark Lord. But this time, he was not able to control his reaction and let out a scream of agony.

Voldemort smiled. He then proceeded to make two sharp nicks on the sides of Snape's forehead.

"You may go now," said Voldemort calmly.

Bloodied, and in extreme pain, Snape weakly grasped a handful of purple powder, threw it in the fire and managed to gasp out, "Severus Snape's office at Hogwarts."

As he stepped into the flames, he tried not to fall. His legs were injured to the point where it was becoming almost impossible to stand upright. His elbow hit something and sent waves of pain through his arm.

When Snape landed in his own office, he barely got out of the flames before he collapsed onto the floor. His office was, as usual, dark and gloomy with lots of jars and vats of pickled Potions ingredients. He crawled over to the shelf crammed with useless books that were only there for decoration. He didn't notice that he was leaving two wide trails of blood leading from the fireplace to the bookshelf. He didn't care either. He took out his wand and tapped out the rhythm to "Valse Op.64 No.1: Petit Chien". It was Lily's favorite song. The bookshelf fell into the wall to reveal a hidden staircase leading to an airy, spacious chamber. As he headed down, he didn't bother to close the door behind him.

He was unable to physically walk down the stairs, so he ended up falling down in a very un-Snape-ish way, head first with his legs in the air so as to not injure them more. It took a lot of physical exertion for him. His head thudded against the door leading into his room. He shoved and the door opened to a very large chamber. He didn't feel like shutting the door. When he entered the room, he shuddered. It was freezing because his rooms were at least five stories below the Potions classroom. He had also made the mistake of letting the fire die out. The torches flickered on uncertainly. He heaved himself over to his bed. When he was lying down as comfortably as possible in the condition that he was in, he pointed his wand at the fireplace. 

"_Incendio," he said in a hoarse voice. _

The fireplace was instantly lit with a large fire that filled the whole room with warmth. Snape looked down at his legs. He could see some of the bones as well as the raw flesh of his calves. They were oozing and he realized that there was a trail of blood across his room. The pain was excruciating. He grimaced and bit his lip, except there was nothing left of his lip to actually bite.

A small pop in the room announced his house-elfs arrival. 

"You is back, Professor Snape!" exclaimed the house-elf in relief.

It was Lecai. Snape's own personal elf. Each professor had been assigned his or her own house-elf, and amazingly, Snape had gotten on extremely well with Lecai. 

As Lecai took in the Potions Master's grave injuries, she started crying. 

"Dark Lord do this to you! One day he will kill my Master," Lecai was used to the Potions Master coming back from Death Eater meetings, battered to the bone by Cruciatus Curses. But this. She had never seen the playful torture that Voldemort go as far as this.

"Lecai? Don't summon Poppy or Albus…" said Snape in a gentle, yet anguish filled voice.

"Lecai Bad House-elf! Master got hurt. I is supposed to protect my Master…Master almost died…Bad Lecai…Lecai…Lecai failed…"

There was a thud. Lecai had fainted. _Oh fuck,_ thought Snape. 

"Dammit Lecai. Just when I need you the most. You can't help me. No one can help me. I don't deserve to be helped. You're just like everyone else…" muttered Snape softly.

Snape wracked his brains for the spell that would wake up Lecai. He couldn't remember it. Yet, he was sure that there was a spell that conveniently woke her up. _What was it? Snape held his head in his hands and then winced. He had touched a nasty looking blow on his head. There was a slight indentation on his skull. The injury was all matted hair and blood. It was a wonder he hadn't collapsed on the way to his rooms. His thoughts couldn't dwell on that notion for long though. _

He had managed to keep back most of the pain for some time now. He was a master at control. Or so he thought. The pain was seeping back, threatening to take over his entire body due to his ever-growing weakness.

He _had to heal these wounds._

His eyes located the small glass phial of Sanatio Restitutio Potion. It was a light yellow color. It would heal his wounds, no matter how deep they were, but it would take around ten minutes of anguish as his skin regenerated. 

"_Accio Sanatio Restitutio Potion!" _

***

_There was no light... well there was, but it was very insubstantial. There was a hint of the moon that crept in through the cracks of the boards on the walls and the fire's brilliant flame cast shadows across the room._

_Athwart from where he stood were two men... wearing identical dark black cloaks, their faces masked in the shadows. One of them pointed a long dark finger at him and suddenly he felt an ethereal force push him down to the ground. _

_He felt part of him go numb, as if injected with morphine, but willed himself to look on. A slightly chubby man emerged from a corner in the room steadily holding a sharp and shiny object. He was overwhelmed and heard the slight snip of scissors. Soon the man and the numbing sensation left._

_One of the men nonchalantly slid across the room towards him, while the other lay upon a chair. As the figure came closer he realized that it was Lucius Malfoy. He kneeled over him, smiling. Suddenly Harry realized where his nemesis had gotten that look from._

_Lucius worded something and pointed to a chair that had fallen only a few moments before. He felt his head nod and tried sitting up. No success. It was as though a ninety-pound weight had landed upon him. He groaned under the stress of it._

_He felt his mouth moving and his hand twitching, as if it wanted to rub a wound. Lucius looked sympathetic and said a few more words. _

_He felt his eyes turn towards the man in the chair. After a few minutes the man once again lifted his abnormally long finger and his body was wracked in the torment of an Unforgivable curse. He flew to the ceiling and heard a sickening crack. The man kept at it with no mercy. Harry stared at him and saw he was mouthing the words, "why" in a most hysterical fashion. After what seemed like years the man stopped and he was thrown onto the ground. He reached into the shadows of his robe and unsheathed a knife; the moonlight reflecting off it. The man turned to him and proceeded by making two long gashes in his leg. The pain was unbearable, and he winced when he felt the knife touch the front of his bone. He could almost hear the muscle being ripped away. He bit his nether lip in order to stop himself from screaming, but soon the flesh on his mouth was reduced to almost nothing and he felt himself scream. He brought his hands to his face, only to find that there were two sharp nicks on the side of his forehead. He brought his hands down and looked at them, they were covered in deep red blood._

_The man was smiling. He looked into his eyes. It was so dark, and deep, like a shade of red rum..._

Harry immediately sat up on his bed. He felt cold sweat upon him. He looked down to his hands expecting to find them coated in blood, instead they were pale, his veins clearly distinguishable. He tried calling out to Ron, but found that his lips felt oddly numb and he was only capable of slurred speech, as if there was a ball under his tongue. His head was still pounding with the reminiscent pain of his scar. 

Harry pulled on one of his school robes over his pajamas and headed towards the Hospital Wing. He wanted to make sure that he was still sane in the morning. If he got a Dreamless Sleeping Draught and slept for the rest of the night, he was sure that he would feel better in the morning. He desperately hoped that he wouldn't remember the dream the next day. 

He swung the portrait of the Fat Lady open and started walking towards the Hospital Wing. Several long corridors later, Harry could hear the gleeful cackle of Peeves the Poltergeist echoing off the walls of the silent school. 

_Oh no, _thought Harry, _he's blocking the way to the Hospital Wing. It's a good thing that I'm wearing my-- He had been in such a hurry to get to the Hospital Wing, that he had forgot to wear his Invisibility Cloak. Harry turned around. He meant to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room and get his cloak, but he realized that he had gone too far and the trip would only exhaust him further. He decided to take another route he knew that lead to the Hospital Wing. To get to the Hospital Wing via the new route he was taking he had to go through the dungeons. _

He was careful to look around each corner and tried to avoid Mrs. Norris and Filch. He instinctively flinched each time a ghost passed through the walls or whenever a shadow moved. He passed the Potions classroom and wondered whether or not Snape was still grading papers in his office. He crept past the empty cauldrons standing in rows and slowly opened the door to Snape's office. The sight that greeted Harry made his stomach lurch. There were two wide trails of blood leading from the fireplace, which had no fire, to a small bookshelf that had been swung inward to reveal a set of stairs. There was the occasional spatter of blood now and then, alongside the two gory trails. When he reached the bookshelf to examine more closely he noticed that there was a bloody handprint on the side of the shelf. It seemed as though the owner of the handprint had grasped the side of the shelf and gone down the stairs. 

Suddenly, he heard a loud shatter of glass coming from somewhere below. It was then followed by a long, tormented scream that sounded like a girls. 

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time. At the end of the stairs, he met a door which he banged open. For a moment, Harry just stared at the person lying in the bed in front of him. The person had blood running down his face from two cuts on his forehead and a pair of legs that were brutally cut open. This man had almost no lip left; it was mostly bitten off. There was shattered glass all over the bed and the glass had made new cuts on the man. Only the eyes of the man before him seemed to belong to the Potions Master Harry knew. 

_No, this looks like a monster that has lived through hell_, thought Harry. Then something clicked in his mind. The man in front of him had the exact wounds that Harry experienced in his dream. 

The man was still screaming his terrible scream. As their eyes locked, Harry started screaming as well. The eyes in front of him held so much pain, anger and fear at the same time. _No one should ever have to have so much pain in their life. No one. Not even Snape._

As Harry screamed in fear and horror, the man before him shrieked in pain.


	4. Chapter Four: Healing, Memories and then...

Chapter Four: Healing, Memories, and then some…

It took a while for Snape to realize that the annoyingly loud, wailing sound enveloping him was coming out from his own mouth. It took him even longer to close his mouth and stop screaming (or whatever he was doing). 

By this time, Harry had stopped screaming himself, and was now standing horrified in Snape's bedchamber.

"What…are you doing…Potter?" he asked in a low voice. 

Harry gulped. _Bloody hell, he's HURT, and he is asking me why I am here. Is he even capable of rational thinking? What do I tell him; that I heard him screaming his head off in the halls? Then he'd take points off for being out of bed, him being Snape. Should I tell him about my dream? He was in the dream and it hurt a ton. It must have been much worse in reality. I wonder who the man that did this was? Wait, it can't have been Voldemort? Could it have been? Anyway, why is he asking about me? He must be in awful pain. Then why doesn't he look it?_ All of these thoughts passed through Harry's mind in the time span of a few seconds. Finally he decided what to say.

"How come you don't look like you're in that much pain?" he said with a shaky voice, answering a question with another question.

It took a few moments for the question to register in Snape's mind, another sign of his concussion and injuries.

"Because," he croaked, "I put a pain relieving Charm on myself, but its effects are fading…" In reality, he was becoming too weak to sustain it because of his injuries but Snape did not realize that. 

"Unless you'd be so kind to put one on me?" he said sarcastically, slightly returning to the "greasy-git Snape". He didn't mention that not even a pain relieving charm would work on reducing the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Sure Dad," he said automatically.

_Oops. Oops, it just slipped out_, thought Harry, covering his mouth. It seemed like memories and habits from his other life were crowding his mind even more, nowadays.

A few seconds lapsed, where as, Snape was completely silent.

Then a slightly clenched moan, and "Potter!" was heard in the dungeons.

Harry was jolted into consciousness, and he flinched. Harry raised his wand and said,

"_Relivius_!"

There was a white flash of light that blinded Harry momentarily. When Harry looked back, Snape was only a crumpled form with his eyes closed. Harry panicked, and thinking that his spell had gone wrong, ran out the room.

Not thinking about anything else except guilt, Harry ran up the stairs and through the halls. _I killed him, I killed him_, were the only words that repeated in his mind. _I killed Cedric by asking him to take the cup with me, and now I've killed Snape because of a stupid, haywire spell that _I _cast_…Harry bit his lip and ran all the more faster towards Dumbledore's office and bedchambers.

Suddenly, he screeched to a halt and turned left, towards Dumbledore's office. _Please, let the password be the same,_ he prayed. He rounded a corner and almost collided with the stone gargoyle. 

"Lite Sugar…Quills," he gasped out, panting. To his relief, the stone gargoyle moved aside to let him pass.

As he jumped onto the moving spiral staircase, he stood still, wanting to catch his breath.

The instant Harry got to the landing, he flung open the office door and skidded towards the far stone wall. He then proceeded to bang on the wall like a little kid, which wasn't very smart because the stone wall was infinitely stronger than Harry's hand. After a few seconds, Harry's hand was red and scratched with imprints of the stone wall. Harry finally realized that his attempts were futile. There was only one other way to wake up Dumbledore, and that was what had worked last night. Harry took a deep breath.

"PROFFESOR DUMBLEDORE!!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

Before he could raise his voice again, a very rumpled looking Dumbledore stomped out the hidden room behind the wall.

"Ah, Harry," he asked a bit sleepily, "What is it that you would like now?"

The brave face that was well known to the world, crumpled into one of a child's, still young, too young to be burdened with the responsibility of saving the whole wizarding world from a greater evil. For Harry suddenly became a fourteen year-old, lonely and looking all like the world had just come crashing down on him. 

"Harry?" Dumbledore was suddenly sharp awake and briskly enfolding Harry in a small hug. 

"Something has happened, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded meekly.

"Something that has to do with Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore. He was partially right.

"No," replied Harry shakily, "More to do with Professor Snape…"

Once he had gotten that part out, words spilled from his mouth in a rush.

"I, I—I had a dream and I was going to get a dreamless sleep potion from Madame Pomfrey, but then I heard screaming and it was coming from the Potions classroom. It was Snape, and—and he was…" Harry couldn't find the word that described Snape's former condition so he settled for a simple word, "injured. And then he asked me t—to cast a pain-relieving charm on him…I stood there for a few seconds, Professor, and then he yelled at me, so I realized what I had to do and cast it…. But—but when the spell hit him, it was a white flash and I didn't know if that was good or bad, and he was just lying there…crumpled…and… I think I might have killed him because of the stupid charm that I cast wrong," he whispered at the end.

Dumbledore had somehow changed into a set of cerulean blue robes and was hurriedly going down the stairs once he had heard Harry's explanation.

Harry struggled to catch up with him and stuttered feebly along the way.

"Hush now Harry," said Dumbledore gently as he walked, "I am sure that everything will be all right. And I seriously doubt a haywire pain-relieving charm could kill Severus Snape. I am more worried about his injuries though."

Harry was still too shocked and he remained silent, for the remainder of the time it took for them to get to Snape's office. 

When they reached Snape's office, Dumbledore seemed unperturbed by the blood on the floor and simple walked towards the bookcase in which the secret entrance was hidden.

Unfortunately for Harry, he had slammed the bookcase shut when he had ran out in a panic, and thus had no idea how to get back into Snape's chambers. Dumbledore stepped up and said, "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster," to the bookcase. It seemed that every piece of furniture and object in Hogwarts knew Dumbledore and granted him respect. What Harry didn't know was that the bookcase that stood on its hinges guarding the entranceway to Snape's private chambers, was one of the most intelligent pieces of furniture in the Hogwarts School. It knew when the person knocking at the door was not wanted, and when people needed to be let into its master's room.

With a shuddering sigh and quite a lot of dust, a rather small book was ejected from the bookcase. Harry and Dumbledore sneezed and coughed. It turned out to be the score for the piano part of a song. Dumbledore opened this book to the first page and saw that the first three bars were marked up. Harry heard Dumbledore sigh and whispered half-heartedly, "Oh, Severus,"

"Headmaster?" queried Harry.

Dumbledore looked up with a small smile and twinkling blue eyes and said, "I've figured out the password,"

He tapped the right rhythm out and the bookcase opened. Albus Dumbledore quickly ran down the staircase and entered the room where Snape was lying.

Severus Snape was crumpled forward in an awkward position, and Dumbledore adjusted the man so that he was lying flat on his back. This gave Dumbledore a good estimate of Snape's grave injuries and he hurried forward to tend to them. 

"Wait, er…" said Harry. "I think he Summoned a beaker of some sort of potion towards him, which might explain the glass shards."

"_Reparo lagenam vitrum!_" said Dumbledore.

The glass shards floated in the air, turned back into a beaker with a few drops of potion left in it and sped towards Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He caught it deftly. 

"Oh God," said Dumbledore after inspecting the remaining contents of the beaker. He then threw the beaker aside carelessly, forgetting that it was glass. They both flinched at the sound of broken glass, but this time the mess was on the floor rather than on Snape's body. 

Dumbledore held his hands slightly above Snape's body and a faint blue glow radiated from them. 

"Don't worry, Harry, he is far from being dead. I was able to heal most of the external injuries but I fear that his legs have to be looked at by a Healer because he has extreme amounts of strong healing potion on them. I, myself, am at a loss to heal these, because even though I am fairly skilled at healing, it was never my strongest subject."

Dumbledore sat down on one of the dark green armchairs with a _fwump_, and immediately stood back up. He then picked up the several large and pointy books that he had sat down on, and placed them on the floor next to the chair. He then sat back down again with a contented sigh. 

"Do sit down Harry, I'm sure Severus won't mind,"

Harry was quite sure that Professor Snape _would_ indeed mind, shook his head furiously, and remained standing. 

"Well, if you insist on standing Harry, would you mind finding the Floo powder please? It should be on the mantelpiece," said Dumbledore.

Harry walked over to the crackling fire and looked on the mantelpiece. It was bare, except for the antique square clock that sat on the right-hand edge and a statue of a lion made out of gold, with a tiny ruby embedded in the forehead.

"Um, Professor?" said Harry uncertainly.

Dumbledore noticed this new dilemma quite quickly and walked over to the mantelpiece as well.

"Foolish of me really," he said smiling, "I'd forgotten the dislike of Floo that he has, and Severus isn't even connected to the Floo network. Ah well. No matter. We'll make do with what we have," concluded Dumbledore.

This left Harry wondering exactly _what_ they had, but he nodded anyway.

Dumbledore held out his hand, palm facing upwards, and conjured a dark neon blue flame in his hand. 

"Adept Patrick Evans!" he announced to his hand. The blue flame bobbed up and down floating above Dumbledore's hand.

Quite a lot of static sound emanated from the flame in Dumbledore's hand. 

Then, a wavering voice said, "Hello?"

"Ah, yes, Patrick, this is Albus."

"Albus…nope, don't know any Albus's….wait, Albus…Dumbledore?"

"Yes," replied Dumbledore in a cheery, good-morning sort of voice.

"Are you calling from a portable? There's this echoy sound I am hearing. And a lot of static! What do you want? Do you even know what _time_ it is?" came the grumpy-at-being-woken-up-from-a-sound-sleep reply.

Dumbledore laughed. Then, in a graver voice said, "I've a patient for you. I'm quite at a loss for healing him."

"How serious are his injuries?" asked the voice.

"I'm assuming they're quite severe, since even the_ great _Albus Dumbledore can't heal them," the voice added.

Then, without any affirmative indication from Dumbledore, the voice said firmly,

"I'm coming over. Can you open a connection for Floo?"

"Actually, Patrick, right now, where we are is sort of inaccessible by Floo…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"WHAT!! Then how am I going to get there to HELP your patient?" screeched the reply.

"Patience. Apparate to the Edge and walk," said Dumbledore soothingly.

"Walk?! Walk. Fine, I'll be there in a minute,"

Then, the flame in Dumbledore's hand turned green and vanished.

Harry asked tentatively, "What's the Edge, sir?"

"The Edge, Harry, is what we commonly refer to as the Apparation boundaries of Hogwarts."

After a few moments, "Will he come here?" asked Harry.

"Most likely, he'll try to rip the wards first," chuckled Dumbledore.

The instant the words escaped his lips there was a loud tearing sound. A face with brown hair and blue eyes appeared to be poking out of thin air. He nodded to Dumbledore and then promptly disappeared. There was now a slight tear in the magic shields that surrounded Hogwarts. 

Suddenly a man on a very large broomstick came through the wall at a tremendous speed, going through the other wall like a ghost. Then, the man came back through the wall that he had recently disappeared through and stopped in front of Dumbledore. The man had curly locks of brown hair, large blue eyes and was dressed in a pure white robe that hurt to look at.

Harry was beginning to think this was all a bad dream. And his head hurt.

"Patrick, I do wish you would be kinder to the spells here," Dumbledore said, pointing to the rip that was quite noticeable.

"I'll fix it," came the reply, although a bit grudgingly.

"NO! Last time you did that you managed to do more damage to the poor wall," Dumbledore hurriedly halted him.

With a wave of his hand, the Headmaster swiftly repaired the damage.

"So, is this the lad you wanted me for?" asked the Healer, looking Harry over.

"No, that's Harry Potter, Patrick," said Dumbledore.

"Blimey! Pleased to meet you." The Healer stuck out his hand in greeting.

"Harry, this is Adept Patrick Evans," introduced Dumbledore.

"Aw, Albus, you know I hate that title. Adept! It sounds like you're fairly good at something when really it took a hell of a hard time achieving it," said the Adept. "Anyways, tis more accurate to call me an Experienced Healer," he said to Harry. "Although," he added as an afterthought, "it _is_ my official title."

"Ok," responded Harry.

"Well then. Lets get down to business. Where's the real patient then?" asked Evans.

Dumbledore pointed to Snape.

Evans screamed.

Harry wanted to sleep. 

It would be a very long night indeed.

~*-*~

A/N: I am so sorry!!!!!!!!!!!! I know it took forever for an update and the chapter was disappointingly short. My lame excuse is that life kicked in, crisis form, and time to write is gone. Next chapter will be at least twice as long and updated by next week.

Any questions, please feel free to ask, which I will try and answer in the next chapter. The wards on Hogwarts will be explained in further detail soon. :)

Thank you for all the reviews. I'm honored. 

Now please hit that button down there, because your suggestions make this fic!

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

**********

******************************

****************************

**************************

************************

**********************

********************

******************

****************

**************

************

**********

********

******

****

**

*


End file.
